


Laboratory Conditions

by afinecollector (orphan_account)



Series: Not Waving but Drowning [13]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Ableism, Epilepsy, Focal Seizure, Gen, JME, Janz Syndrome, Juvenile Myoclonic Epilepsy, Partial Seizure, Seizure, epileptic, seizure disorder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-15
Updated: 2016-07-15
Packaged: 2018-07-24 06:07:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7496889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/afinecollector
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock's seizures are weighing heavy on Victor's mind, and with a push Sherlock explains it all</p>
            </blockquote>





	Laboratory Conditions

“...and that causes the reaction,” The professor said, shaking the test tube lightly, “That causes the colour to change, indicating a positive result for the presence of haemoglobin.” She held it up. “So this proves what, if anything?” 

“That there is blood present, therefore proving that there was human decomposition.” Victor spoke up, removing his safety goggles. 

Professor Higgins smiled. “No, it indicates a positive result for haemoglobin. What does it _prove_.” 

“It doesn’t prove anything, it simply opens up further channels of investigation - it indicates that there was blood matter, it doesn’t prove that there was decomposition.” Sherlock spoke up. “You rerun on a more focused bend, aiming to breakdown the matter into specifics.” 

“Ten points to Sherlock Holmes.” Professor Higgins chortled, placing the test tube into its designated rack. “Exactly right - it proves that there is grounds for further investigation into the exact building blocks that make up the complete sample. Victor Trevor, I want one hundred and fifty words on my desk on Monday with examples of the difference between proving and indicating. The rest of you, have a good weekend.” She closed the class on a light tone. “Sherlock, can you wait for five minutes before you disappear, I wanted to talk with you about something?” 

As everyone else packed up their bags and returned their goggles to the storage box, Sherlock lingered at his table for quiet to fall over the room once it was finally empty. Alone with Professor Higgins, she approached him with a cheerful smile. 

“Don’t look so worried, Sherlock, you’re not about to get failed or anything.” She reassured him, touching his shoulder lightly. “I wanted to ask you about how you’re doing; I know the start of term didn’t kick off on a good curve and I wanted to make sure you were feeling up to the work. I’ve seen that you are,” She nodded at him, clearly impressed by his dedication in class, “But I just want to make sure that you’re feeling okay.” 

“I’m fine,” Sherlock answered her bluntly, fiddling with the plastic goggles between his fingers. “I like the class, that definitely helps me to keep my mind focused.” 

“I know that your condition is shared on a need to know basis, and I appreciated your candidness in explaining it to me at the start of our time together. I recalled that at the beginning of term you mentioned that your seizures are well controlled and then, of course, you experienced the rare one which has led you to needing to change your medication.” Sherlock nodded as she spoke. “I noticed you had a couple of absences through the practical today, one or two were pretty long, too. You didn’t feel like you were struggling to keep engaged, or that you missed anything?” 

Sherlock shook his head quickly, “No, I think I did okay.” He looked at her hopefully. 

“Oh, I do too.” She grinned, “You’re top of the class already, your knowledge supercedes that of a lot of your fellow student body and that’s impressive when you’ve just begun studying. I suppose the purpose of me speaking with you is to make sure that you feel comfortable enough in coming to me if there’s a day when you’re not so focused, or steady, so that I can be aware, can...I don’t know, offer notes at the end if you need to leave or if you have to ditch the lecture.” 

“I don’t want to be treated specially. If I’m sick and I can’t come then I get the same reaction and treatment as everyone else in the room.” Sherlock said firmly. 

Professor Higgins nodded her head. “Okay, universal acceptance it is. But I keep the offer open; it’s not just a sickness in your case, it’s an actual, uncontrollable… _issue_ , one that I don’t want to see stop you being as successful as I can already see you can be.” 

Sherlock smiled out of the left side of his mouth and nodded his head at her gratefully. “Thank you.” 

“Go on,” she jerked her head over her shoulder. “Go and start your weekend.” 

Sherlock launched his goggles into the storage box as he left the room, not sure if he was entirely grateful or slightly embarrassed by her singling him out. As he closed the door behind him and stepped into the corridor, he was a little surprised to see Victor lingering in the hallway waiting for him. 

“You in trouble?” Victor teased. 

Sherlock feigned insult, “Me? Never!” He shrugged his shoulders, “No, she was just trying to be nice and politically correct.” 

“Politically correct?” Victor quirked his right eyebrow. 

“Asking if I needed special adjustments to the timetable or recorded notes, that sort of thing.” Sherlock said, pulling his back up over his left shoulder. “I said no.” He said quickly. “I don’t want a jumpstart on anyone - I want to be better than all of you on my own merit.” 

“Oh, you are.” Victor shook his head at Sherlock’s bigheaded certainty in himself. Not that he could entirely blame him; he was a firm believer in accepting your credit where you were owed it. “Are you staying for the weekend?” 

Sherlock shook his head, “No - I have to go home. It’s my parents’ wedding anniversary and there’s a big family dinner thing. Mycroft’s as enthusiastic about it as I am about chewing a used condom.” Victor choked a laugh and shook his head at the blaise way Sherlock made the comment without looking remotely amused at his own joke. 

“So you’re leaving now?” Victor asked. 

Sherlock nodded and rolled his eyes, “Yeah, Mycroft’s picking me up on campus in about half an hour. I need to go and pack.” 

“I’ll walk back to the dorm with you.” Victor offered, following Sherlock through the campus. They were relatively quiet until they reached the boarding quarters. Sherlock had been able to feel the impulses radiating from Victor the entire walk and he finally gave in and pushed the man into just opening his mouth as they stepped into their shared room. 

“Okay, just say whatever it is, because you’re beginning to annoy me with your thinking.” Sherlock said sharply, throwing his bag onto his unmade bed. 

“You know you had fits in the lab just now?” Victor said immediately after receiving his permission. Sherlock nodded his head, having already been informed. “That doesn’t freak you out? You were working with chemicals, Sherlock. Anything could have happened.” 

“Nothing happened.” Sherlock frowned at him, half-smiling. 

Victor sighed, “But it could have. And you don’t know they happen, those daydream-y things? What if you do it and drop something and it’s corrosive?” 

“Do it?” Sherlock repeated with a look of pure incredulity. “It isn’t like burping, or...whatever. I don’t ‘do it’, it happens. I can’t stop it.” 

“That’s my point.” Victor shrugged up his shoulders, aware he wasn’t coming across in the best way he could have. “I’ve been reading up on epilepsy.” 

“Oh, here we go.” Sherlock poked his tongue into his left cheek and sat on his bed, his expression firmly sarcastic. “So what did you learn?” 

“Too much, I got a headache,” Victor tried to lighten the mood. “But seriously, until your medication has your daydreaming under control again, you really shouldn’t be handling chemicals in a lab.” 

Sherlock gave a nod, his facial expression still sarcastic in the extreme. “Thank you, Doctor Trevor. So now that you’ve read a textbook on a broad and incredibly extensive subject and know the tip of the iceberg, you’re going to tell me what I can and cannot do. Thank you, really, I am taking it all on board.” 

“I’m not trying to be a dick!” Victor said loudly, “I’m just, I’m not sure what I’m trying to do, I just wanted you to know that I’m sort of concerned.” 

“So what did you look for? My roommate had a spaz-attack in the library and now I want to know if he’s safe to be around?” Sherlock asked, his eyebrows crooked. “You don’t even know what branch of the epilepsy tree I sit on and, let me tell you, there are many branches to that particularly old oak.” He pushed himself up from the edge of the bed. “So let’s get it straight, so you know what you’re expecting?” 

“Sherlock, I didn’t mean to upset you.” 

Sherlock shook his head, hands held out like a buffer, “Oh no, no I know that. But if you want to know, I’ll tell you.” His words were clipped. “I have JME, or Janz Syndrome, or Juvenile Myoclonic Epilepsy - I don’t care what you call it. I’ve had this since I was eleven, but the seizures started before so probably since I was about ten. JME causes myoclonic jerks and absence seizure - those little daydream-y things… And tonic-clonic seizure; that’s what happened in the library. So now you have that little tidbit, how about you do your research and be thorough about it before you presume to tell me what my life should be.” 

Victor shook his head, his face fall into sympathy despite trying hard not to be pitying. “Sherlock, I didn’t mean to come across as ignorant. But you’re the first person I’ve ever seen do that, and considering your my lab partner and my roommate - and my friend - I think I should know what you’re going through.” 

“Fine,” Sherlock inhaled steadily, still clearly agitated but remaining even toned as he spoke again. “Don’t say fit; I hate that word and I use it when I’m pissed off. Seizures, that’s what they are. They’re not daydreams, they’re absence seizures, or focal seizures. What happened in the library, that’s a tonic-clonic seizure, they don’t happen that often - that was the first in over a year. If I drop things or knock things over in the morning, or seem a bit _twitchy_ , those are myoclonic jerks and they’re usually bad when I’m first awake or if I’m tired. Yes, the medication is new but it’s doing okay so far. It’s called Lamotrigine, and it might not work long term but considering I’ve already had two other types of medication, they’re trying another road. Don’t stare at me if I’m twitching, I can’t stop it and believe me I have tried to. Don’t ask me if I’m okay after an absence seizure because I’m fine - I don’t even know they’re happening.” 

Victor tried to absorb the facts quickly and accurately. “What about those tonic ones; what do I do if you have one of those?” 

“Time it and make sure I can’t hit my head on anything but don’t try to hold me down. If it goes over five minutes you should probably call an ambulance, but that doesn’t happen - just once. Usually it’ll stop itself about three minutes later and then I just need to sleep. It isn’t nice, I know. I piss on myself and I make strange noises, apparently. But I’m unconscious so as long as it’s within that time frame, I’m usually okay. Let me sleep after, don’t try to make me stay awake. It hurts everywhere and it makes my head pound, so let me sleep it off.” 

Victor nodded his head slowly, making mental notes. “I really didn’t mean anything by what I said - I didn’t mean to be offensive, I’m just trying to understand. All this,” He said with enthusiastic eyes, “I need to know. We live together, study together. I mean, if you had one of those tonic fits - seizures - while you were sleeping and you hadn’t told me all of this, I’d be freaking out again like at the library.” 

“I don’t want to spend my life explaining why my brain doesn’t work.” Sherlock shook his head. 

“Pal, your brain is working just fine,” Victor smiled, it grew into a laugh, “You wiped the floor with me in the lab today.” 

Sherlock smiled lopsidedly. “Kinda did, yeah.” He grinned. 

“Truce?” Victor held out his hand to Sherlock. Nodding, Sherlock took his hand and they shook on it. “Good.” Victor let go and stood, looking at Sherlock awkwardly for a moment. “...okay, so I’m going to go get something to eat and I’ll let you pack. Enjoy your weekend with your family, e-mail me or something if it gets too much.” He winked. 

Sherlock rolled his eyes in mild amusement. “Yeah, we’ll see.”


End file.
